


The First Year

by Kikochan434



Series: College Adventures [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikochan434/pseuds/Kikochan434
Summary: Essentially, a self-indulgent College AU. We being with the majority of the Voltron crew starting their college adventures.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: College Adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589332
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. It's Moving Day!

“Hunk! What the hell do you have in here?!” Lance complained as he strained to lift said box higher into his arms.

“Oh, that’s my cast iron cookware.” Hunk hefted another box nearly twice the size of Lance’s from the truck bed and started towards the stairs.

“Cast iron -! HUNK!” A loud slurp from his left drew Keith’s attention from the ensuing dramatics to the mess of golden hair and multi-colored bobby pins next to him. 

“As absolutely riveting as this little soap opera is, I am so glad I chose to live at home instead.” Keith hummed in agreement as Pidge took another long pull from her juice box. “I would much rather put up with Matt’s annoying ass than move in with a literal stranger.”

“Same.” Shiro and Adam had a tendency to drive Keith slightly insane sometimes with their mother-henning, but he would take their terrible dad jokes and inability to cook anything not from a box any day of the week if it meant never having to live with someone he’d never met before. Again. Keith shuddered at the thought and Pidge, as if sensing the direction his thoughts had gone, pressed herself firmly into his side. He was drawn back into the present at the sight of their friends returning for another load. 

“And what exactly do you two think you’re doing? You’re just standing there!”

“I’m just here to be Keith’s moral support and to help him hide the bodies,” Pidge deadpanned.

“I was promised pizza,” Keith added.

“Seriously?”

“Shiro promised me Cici’s.” Lance threw his hands up in frustration.

“Traitors! Both of you!”

“Alright, alright, calm down, Lance.” Hunk placed his hands on Lance’s shoulders and gently steered him toward the tailgate. “This is our last trip, anyway. See?” Still grudgingly, Lance picked up the final box and dutifully followed Hunk back to their room. They returned a few moments later with barely concealed smiles and Shiro and Adam in tow.

Shiro wrapped Keith in a hug, pulling back before he could react and stealing his truck keys in the process.

“What the fuck? Give those back! Shiro-” The larger man cut off Keith’s protests with his sweaty palm, lifting his stolen prize above his head with his prosthetic. 

“Anyone who wants pizza, get in the truck. Nope!” Pidge froze mid-step where she had been headed toward the passenger side door. “Kiddos in the back, Pidge.” She groaned in response but changed direction and began clambering into the bed.

“Shiro.” He turned to face his little brother with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, Keith. I know it was supposed to just be us today, but Adam got off early and then we ran into Lance and Hunk…” Keith hummed.

“It’s alright. You know Pidge would have found a way to tag along anyway.” Shiro nodded in agreement.

“Raincheck?” Another hum. Shiro dropped a comforting hand onto Keith’s shoulder. “I mean it, Keith. And if it gets to be too much today, just say the word and we’ll shut it down.”

“I’m alright, Shiro.” It was barely a mumble, but he heard it anyway.

“Good.” He cupped the back of Keith’s head and kiss his forehead, bringing a smile to the kid’s face. “I’m proud of you, Keith.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith’s grin turned smug as he pulled away. “Love you too, Dad.”

“I will have you know - “ Shiro’s rebuttal was cut off by the blare of the horn, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed when Keith chuckled. Not too long ago, he would’ve been thrown into a full-blown panic attack complete with flashbacks. Shiro’s own heart, even now, skipped a beat when the memories got too close. Keith had gone through so much, lost so much, that to be able to see him like this was nothing short of a miracle. “I love you too, kid.”

Keith’s expression grew bashful but he let Shiro pull him into one last hug before clambering over the tailgate to join the others.

“Keith alright?” Adam asked as Shiro shut the driver’s side door.

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s good.” Shiro paused to click his seatbelt into place. “I’m just so proud of him. He’s come so far.”

“You’re good for him, Takashi.” Adam laid a hand over the cool metal of the prosthetic. “You always have been.” Shiro pulled their hands up to swipe a kiss across his boyfriend’s knuckles.

“You, too. You’ve been there for both of us through so much. God, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The pair leaned in for a long kiss, ignoring the loud thump against the back window except to flip the bird at the perpetrator. “Our kid is a fucking brat, you know that?” Shiro just laughed as he started the car. 

Later that night, with Keith curled between them in their king-size bed after an anxiety-induced nightmare had sent him scrambling over Shiro to wedge himself in between them as he tried to come down, the words echoed in Adam’s mind. ‘Our kid.’ Huh.


	2. Material Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you asked Keith, it all started the moment Lance’s ridiculous skin care routine collided with the realities of being a college student. Or, as Pidge so eloquently put it, the day Lance’s champagne tastes met his beer can budget. To Hunk, however, it had always been inevitable.

If you asked Keith, it all started the moment Lance’s ridiculous skin care routine collided with the realities of being a college student. Or, as Pidge so eloquently put it, the day Lance’s champagne tastes met his beer can budget. To Hunk, however, it had always been inevitable. 

“But how?!” Keith and Pidge shared a look at Lance’s indignant squawk. They had cloistered themselves in Hunk and Lance’s shared dorm room under the guise of studying, the reality of which was that Hunk and Keith actually had been studying while Pidge had been tinkering with some spare parts she had brought along and Lance had been counting coins.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Hunk, bless his heart, actually managed to sound concerned.

“How do I only have thirty-six dollars and eighty-seven cents?!” Silence. “Hunk!”

Sufficiently distracted from the mountain of reading they had been slogging through for the past half-hour, Keith sighed and closed his textbook as Hunk stood and headed toward their kitchenette to rummage through the cabinets for “comfort snacks”.

“I don’t know, Lance. What have you been buying lately?” For a moment, the only sound in the room was Pidge’s concentrated muttering as Lance ran over the past several weeks in his head before letting out a shine of protest.

“But Hunk -”

“Uh-uh. Oh no, you don’t. You know good and damn well that you did NOT need that thirty dollar tank top.”

“It was on sale!”

“It’s fall, Lance.”

“It has sequins!” Hunk’s admonishing glare had Lance wilting. “Alright, fine. But I can’t exactly ask Mami to send anything more. Things have been pretty tight for them lately.”

“You could return all the useless junk you bought,” Keith muttered.

“It’s not useless!”

“You live with Hunk. When are you going to need an omelette maker?”

“He has a point, buddy.”

“Okay, fair, but -”

“Or,” Pidge interrupted loudly, “you could just do what a normal person does and get a fucking job.” Silence greeted the suggestion.

“Pidge, you’re a fucking genius!” Lance popped up to wrap his arms around her.

“I know, now get off.”

Despite having known Lance for the vast majority of their eighteen years, Hunk still wasn’t sure how they got into half the messes they did. There was that time Lance had convinced him to help him eat an entire five pound bag of gummy bears in one sitting that had ended with both of them puking rainbows, or when Lance begged him to teach him to make cookies and they almost blew up the oven. Standing there in the middle of Coran’s kitchen, however, may have been the worst.

Despite Coran’s (Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man) eccentricities, the cafe itself was cozy and well-kept. The kitchen, on the other hand, was a different story altogether. A story that told of exactly how little training Coran had received in the culinary arts. From his place just inside the door, Hunk could see bread knives being used for icing lopsided cupcakes, appliances with layers of flour (or was it dust?) nearly an inch, and a suspiciously sticky puddle next to the freezer chest. His fingers itched for gloves and a bottle of disinfectant while his brain was screaming for him to run as far and as fast as possible. 

“Sorry about the mess, my boy.” Coran clapped a hand to Hunki’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I’m more suited to the office work than the kitchen and Romelle has been out with the flu.”

Relief crept in at the idea that he wouldn’t be handling this monstrosity on his own. “Romelle?”

“Ah, yes. Romelle is our chef. She’s a great baker, though her soups don’t always turn out well.” Coran cleared his throat. “You’ll be working quite closely with her, though I feel you’ll get along splendidly.”

Strangely enough, the man’s words did little to ease Hunk’s nerves. But he had already given his word and a Garrett always kept their word. He exhaled slowly.

“Alright. When do we start?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coran, as it turned out, was right. He and Romelle got on really well. The bubbly blonde actually reminded him a lot of Pidge with her no-nonsense attitude, though Romelle seemed to keep things a lot more organized than Pidge’s own brand of what she called “organized chaos”. When Hunk had walked in two days after his impromptu hiring, the sense of dread that had been building in his gut all morning had all but vanished when he walked in to find a freshly cleaned kitchen and his new coworker piping icing onto decidedly not lopsided cupcakes. He had generously grilled sandwiches and ladled out soup for Romelle, Coran, Lance and himself for lunch and when Romelle started asking questions about his recipe, the last of his anxiety disappeared. Anyone he could talk food with was definitely a friend.

To make things even better, lance was happy. He complained, yes, but that was just Lance being Lance. He would bitch about having nothing to bitch about if given the chance. Point was, Lance was happy. Coran worked with their schedules, never made them wear a uniform outside of the apron, and took care of anyone who gave them too much trouble. Lance could afford to keep up his skin care routine, Hunk could afford the appliances their tiny kitchenette needed, and they got to take home any leftover pastries and soup at the end of the day. Things were good.

And then….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fire Nation attacked.


	3. Gorgeous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is, well, Lance.

“I’m telling you, Allura, the weapons business is much more profitable-”

“I have no interest in the profits of Galra and certainly no interest in fueling humanity’s wars. Altea’s focus is on creating solutions to the problems that will one day cause humanity to go extinct such as overpopulation and the draining of our natural resources.”

Lance looked up from where he’d been taking notes in the edges of his biology textbook as the bell above the cafe door jingled only to come face to face with the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. As silently as possible, he back through the swinging door and into the kitchen, crouching below the order window so as not to be seen.

“Um, Lance?” Hunk, used to his friend’s strange behavior at this point, was watching him with a look somewhere between concern and exasperation. “What are you doing?” 

“Hunk! I - She - “ He gave up and simply settled for a sound that was correctly interpreted as ‘I am actively dying, please help’.

Hunk peeked through the order window, eyes narrowed, before turning his gaze on Lance, expression now firmly settled in exasperated territory. “Really?” Lance squeaked in affirmation.

“What are you - “ Romelle started but broke off into a happy squeal when she caught sight of their guests.

“Allura!” The stunning lady beamed as she caught Romelle in a hug. “Oh my god! How have you been? How was Europe? I missed you so much! You were gone for way too long!”

The woman, Allura apparently (god, even her name was beautiful!) simply hugged her tighter as she laughed. “I missed you too, Romie. It’s so good to be home again!” She paused. “But where is -”

“Princess!” Coran burst through the office door with a wild cry and nearly tackled Allura to the floor in an effort to hug her without dislodging Romelle. Allura simply chuckled as the ginger man went through the same spiel as Romelle while the admittedly handsome man with her rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Then, his eyes landed on Lance and Hunk.

“I see you’ve hired some new help since I was last here.” Everything about the man screamed money and he seemed to literally ooze charm, but there was something predatory in his smirk that had Hunk shuddering and Lance narrowing his gaze.

“Ah, yes! This is Lance, our new waiter, and Hunk, our new chef! He and Romelle have been working on some new specials for the menu, and I must say, they have been quite the hit so far,” Coran exclaimed as he twirled his mustache.

“If you’d like, Romelle and I can whip up a sampler platter for you so you can try them for yourself,” Hunk offered.

“That would be lovely. Lotor, go find us a seat, please. I would like to speak to Uncle Coran for a moment.” Allura and Coran made their retreat to the office as Hunk and Romelle returned to the kitchen, leaving Lance to trail after Lotor.

“Hi, I’m Lance.” An awkward silence filled the space between them as Lotor arched a brow at Lance’s outstretched hand. “Right, okay. Well, um, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Venti soy latte with caramel and a shot of espresso. No whip.” Aaaaaaand there it was, the only reason Lance needed to despise him. Still, he plastered on a smile and went back behind the register to start making the order. He had just returned to reading his textbook when the front door opened again to the sound of familiar bickering.

“But I’m telling you, Matt -”

“Shiro, no. And if I’m the one telling you no -” Lance grinned as Keith rolled his eyes and moved toward the counter with Matt and Shiro behind him.

“Lance.” He sounded about ready to slam his head on the coffee counter. Lance tried to suppress a snicker.

“Mullet.”

“Shiro!”

“Mattie!” Keith let out a long-suffering sigh at their antics.

“I need something with enough caffeine to effectively send me into cardiac arrest.” Lance couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“Dude, you already look like the walking dead and I’m pretty sure that if Adam didn’t kill me first, Hunk definitely would if I actually served you something like that.”

“What exactly would I murder you for?” The man in question pushed through the kitchen door with a small trolley of the sampler he and Romelle had thrown together.

“Giving Keith a drink with enough caffeine that it could literally kill him.” Hunk didn’t even bother responding, sighing instead as he kept moving.

“Ooooh, Lance! Make me one, too!”

“Romelle, no. Just...no.”

“I like her,” Keith grinned. “I’ll just have the usual, then.”

“One grande mocha frappe with almond milk, extra mocha, no whip, and two shots of espresso coming right up!”

“Keith, what?!” Shiro protested. “Exactly how much caffeine do you need?!”

“Shiro, Matt, you want anything?”

“Coffee as black as my soul.”

“Alright, so small coffee, three sugars and extra hazelnut creamer for Matt.” Lance ignored Matt’s protest and took down the order for Shiro’s legitimately black coffee. “Find a seat. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

By the time Lance had arrived to deliver their drinks, Matt and Shiro had moved on to talking about the work they were doing at the Galaxy Garrison while Keith sat in the corner, scrolling on his phone. Each of their heads popped up at Lance’s approach and he was reminded eerily of the way his nieces and nephews did the exact same thing when he opened a package of Oreos. They made small talk, mostly about school and their favorite gremlin (Pidge), until a distinctly feminine voice interrupted them.

“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You work for the Galaxy Garrison?” Lance blushed and cleared his throat.

“Allura, this is my friend Keith, his brother Shiro, and our friend Matt. Matt and shiro have been with the Garrison for several years now. Shiro is a crew trainer, and Matt, well…”

“To be fair, I don’t think anyone really knows what my title is anymore,” Matt laughed.

“My name is Allura. My father, Alfor, owns Altea Inc.” Before she could get any further, the bell at the door jingled and Lance was called away to deal with the lunch rush.

When he did manage to sneak a peek at his friends, he found that they had joined Allura and Lotor at the table Hunk had set up the sampler on. Shiro and Matt were talking animatedly with Allura, probably about work, the nerds, but Keith was sitting quietly, back ramrod straight and tension writ in every line of his body. Lance frowned. Keith was hardly the most socially adept member of their ragtag group of friends, ranking just above Pidge on the scale with Shiro having held the top slot for years closely followed by Adam, but he was normally able to get through most social situations without looking ready to implode. The closer he looked, though…

Oh.

OH.

Between Lotor’s smirk and the pink on Keith’s cheeks, it was hardly a mystery as to what was going on, and Lance had to admit he was impressed. Most people, guys and girls alike, didn’t have the balls to hit on Keith in front of Shiro, and those that did usually ended up on Shiro’s normally short shit list. Lotor, on the other hand, was making zero effort to hide his intentions, and with Shiro successfully distracted, Keith was left floundering. As much as Lance enjoyed watching his friend try to let people down easy in most cases, there was something about the way Lotor looked at Keith that left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Excuse me.” A soft voice interrupted his musings and he looked up to find the bluest eyes he had ever seen staring back into his own. “May I have another fork? I’m afraid I dropped mine.”

“P-princess!” He sputtered. “Of course! Just a- just a moment!” He winced as his knees hit the floor but continued his mad search for utensils. When he popped back up, there was a rosy tint to her tanned cheeks, and Lance decided he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Their fingers brushed as he passed her the fork and his life flashed before his eyes.

“Thank you.” Allura bit her bottom lip as she paused. “Also, I wanted to apologize for Lotor’s behavior earlier. My cousin and I were raised very differently in regards to how we treat others.”

“Thank you, Princess, but you really don’t need to apologize. Lotor isn’t the first to treat me like that, even today, and I’m sure he won’t be the last.” Lance really wasn’t sure how he managed to string together a coherent sentence when his brain was pinging between complete awe that such a goddess was apologizing to him, a lowly mortal, and ecstasy at the revelation that Lotor was her cousin and not her boyfriend.

Allura hummed and dug into her purse. “Still. You deserve much more than that, Lance. Have a good afternoon.”

It took Lance a good twelve minutes to recover from the triple knockout that was Allura’s smile, the idea that she thought he was worthy of respect, and the fact that she knew his name for him to take a look in the tip jar and realize that she had left a crisp, newly printed hundred dollar bill on top of the usual amount of ones and loose change.

“Lance? Are you okay?” Hunk crashed through the kitchen door to find his buddy looking like a reenactment of the Scream painting. “Lance?”

“I- she - but -” He stuttered.

“Buddy?” Lance took a deep breath.

“Hunk! She apologized for Lotor’s rude ass and our fingers touched and she tipped a hundred bucks and she’s so gorgeous and she said I deserved more and I think I’m in love and she knows my name! HUNK!” It was only through years and years of experience that Hunk was able to interpret the Cuban’s rapid speech into something that made sense.

“That’s great, buddy.” He had the sinking feeling that this was not going to go well. “We gotta get moving, though. We have class in an hour, remember?”


End file.
